This Kind of Thing Happens All the Time by Sandra Cuffe

The Waiting Game

At around 4 in the morning on September 10th the six of us - 4 community witnesses, Silvestre Bautista of COPINH (Civic Council of Indigenous and Popular Organizations of Honduras) and I - piled into the back of the pickup truck for the chilly ride from COPINH's office in La Esperanza, Intibucá to Gracias, Lempira. The initial hearing for charges of torture, abuse of authority, and damages brought by the Special Public Prosecutor's Office on Ethnic Minorities on behalf of Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda against 28 police officers involved in the January 8-9 operative in Montaña Verde was scheduled to begin at 8am. We had time to have a quick cup of coffee in the market before heading over to the court, where the great waiting game was about to begin.

After a couple hours of contemplating the interior of the court patio, it was announced that the hearing would be postponed until the next day because the accused had failed to present themselves. To properly understand this announcement it is useful to know that the police headquarters lie directly beside the court. It was evident that the police were going to use the 3 strikes rule to drain our money, time and energy. Although COPINH is sorely lacking the former, we found a place to stay and spent an enjoyable afternoon in the park, collecting Guanacaste seeds and discussing the innumerable magical creatures reported to inhabit the region.

Strike two. The next morning we returned to contemplate the roses and talk with Marcelino and Leonardo who had been brought to the court. It seemed that for all their training, the officers still could not manage the 10m hike to join us. Another couple hours passed before the Public Prosecutor exited the judge's office to inform us that the hearing had been rescheduled. Apparently one of the accused had not been summoned and was currently in La Ceiba on the north coast. This kind of thing happens all the time, the witnesses tell me, and run to catch the bus to take them in the direction of home, an isolated and incredibly beautiful community high up in the mountains of western Honduras.

The Ants Go Marching

A week later I follow their trail along the path to the community of Planes, Montaña Verde. This was no run of the mill community visit, however. Along with me were the defence lawyer Marcelino Martínez, a judge, public prosecutor Julio Cerrato, a forensic doctor, medical and legal assistants, a supposed witness, numerous preventative and investigative police agents, and two civilians armed with AK47s (strictly illegal in Honduras), apparently security employees of the court in Gracias brought along to protect the judge.

An exhumation, a reconstruction of events and an inspection of the crime site, for the evacuation of evidence in the homicide case against Marcelino and Leonardo, were planned (again) and it seemed that this time they would be carried out. Upon arriving in the community cemetery, however, it was revealed that no one had brought any tools with which to carry out the exhumation. While even some of the forensic assistants could be heard commenting on how ridiculous the situation was, the authorities demanded that the community provide shovels and picks. Perhaps some of them did not fully understand the situation.

The two communities of Planes and Vertientes manage all tools, land and decisions collectively, together with their Indigenous Communal Council. The last couple times the authorities have visited the community, it has been to illegally arrest and torture indigenous council members. Considering also the respect with which the communities treat their deceased, reactions were more than understandable. Here we collectively bury our dead, explained Luis, another indigenous council member who was imprisoned on false charges, we don't use our communal tools to open tombs. After some discussion, however, they decided to send a few community members to collect the tools, which were being stored a couple hours on foot from the cemetery.

Meanwhile it was decided to continue with the reconstruction of events. When along the way the witness was instructed to identify the site, he chose the location in which the group found itself, approximately 700m from the actual site of events. The reconstruction was completed, despite the fact that none of the physical features match his declaration (which coincides with the real site). When it came time for the inspection of the site of the crime, the public prosecutor vehemently opposed and ranted about the impossibility of the judge' realization of the inspection. Notwithstanding, the judge and some police officers, led by community members, left the prosecutor fuming along with some DGIC (criminal investigation) agents including Ivan Nájera, involved in the torture of Leonardo Miranda in January.

Everyone regrouped in the cemetery, where the forensic medical personnel were still waiting for the tools. Upon the insistence of the still-fuming prosecutor, the entire group left on foot without carrying out the exhumation. After a short visit with Susana, wife of Marcelino Miranda, we followed their lead down the mountain path to Portreillos, trying to stay ahead of the thunderstorms and nightfall. Along the way a police helicopter flew overhead, flying in low circles above Montaña Verde.

The next morning in Gracias we heard the news. The judge and two police officers had disappeared in Montaña Verde the day before, were presumed dead, and some police officers had been killed. This came as a bit of a surprise since we had been with them the entire day and never noticed their disappearance or death. It turned out that at some point during the day Public Prosecutor Julio Cerrato had radioed the Public Prosecutor's Office in Gracias to let them know that Judge Atiliano Vásquez and some police agents had disappeared. This information was transferred to police headquarters, and was verified by the police captain, who radioed a police officer with the group and received confirmation of the news.

Once confirmed, a helicopter was sent and the news - in varying stories - was announced on local and national radio, the main source of information throughout the country. This disinformation tactic is no novelty. Although the term communist guerrilla might not be in style these days, the same methods are used to portray indigenous and other activists in such a way so as to justify repression. In the case of Montaña Verde, a special report was written by a DGIC agent confirming that a group of 14 people armed with AK47s is known to operate in the community of Vertientes, led by Marcelino Miranda. This report, used by police to justify the operative in January, is only one example of the manipulations and persecution against Montaña Verde council and community members, as was demonstrated September 18th.

Today's News

Outside the court in Gracias where we waited for the defence's copy of the legal act from the reconstruction of events, I skimmed through the newspaper. The others were discussing the land situation in the country and the numerous land occupations by campesino organizations. By coincidence I spotted a related article.

Two from the CNTC were killed, I tell them. Yeah, yeah, from La Paz. They think I am referring to the July 19, 2003 murder of Fabian González and José Santos Carrillo, members of the National Union of Rural Workers (CNTC)-affiliated 'Senderos de Progreso' (Paths of Progress) campesino group involved in a land recuperation in the department of La Paz. No, no, I insist, two more were killed.

On September 16, 2003 at about 4:30pm members of Unidos Venceremos (United We Will Overcome), a CNTC-affiliated campesino group involved in a land recuperation in the municipality of Victoria, department of Yoro, were attacked and shot at by a group of armed civilians. Cecilio Vasquez was killed and a youth was seriously injured. Teofilo Gutiérrez and Ulises Gutiérrez were then kidnapped and brutally tortured and Teofilo Gutiérrez was savagely murdered.

The Unidos Venceremos campesino group presented a request to the National Agrarian Institute (INA) approximately 4 years ago, soliciting the awarding of a land title. The land in question is property of INA, having been transferred to the Institute by the mayor's office for the purpose of land reform. As has often been the case all over Honduras, in neighbouring countries, and around the world, land reform has meant a series of laws and documents that are almost never put into practice due to the obstacles presented by powerful landowners, drug traffickers and companies, their hired gunmen, corrupt local, departmental and national authorities, and governments with a rather questionable commitment to deal with the issue.

On August 27, 2003, the Unidos Venceremos group, made up of more than 50 families living in extreme poverty, was evicted by a group of police agents accompanied by armed civilians. Their houses were burned and 70 manzanas of corn were destroyed. Two days later a group of armed civilians commanded by Osberto Landa, Hector Bonilla and Andres Cubas, accompanied by police agents and supported by the mayor of Victoria, Javier Ortega, fired indiscriminately upon the families who at that time were not even on the contested land. Two were injured.

Despite the formal denouncement and witnesses presented to the criminal investigation police (DGIC), nothing was done. The September 16 murders were perpetrated by the group of gunmen, led by 'Crazy Bird' Jorge Torres, contracted by Landas, Bonilla and Cubas and reportedly supported by the mayor. Despite these attacks, the campesino families continue to fight for their right to a bit of land to cultivate their food, supported by the CNTC, many of whose regional and national leaders have also received death threats.

Of course, most of this didn't make the paper. Newspaper owners don't tend to print things that might upset the twisted social order. The tiny clip mentioning the deaths was relegated to a few brief paragraphs hidden in the back pages of one of the dailies. The Honduran army troops' flag ceremony in an Iraqi city, the military-style arrest operations of purported gang members and the latest rumours about Ben Affleck and Jennifer López make the headlines these days. And besides, why would the murder of campesinos and the complicity of state authorities make the front page? These kinds of things happen all the time.

The Damned

Upon return to La Esperanza, I find the COPINH office full of families. They are the damnificados, I am told. Although I am still unsure of the actual translation of the word, I soon understood its meaning.

In this region of Honduras, it is currently the heaviest rainfall period of the year. The torrential downpour in the latter half of the day swells the rivers, streams and impromptu waterways in the streets. One of the small rivers in the neighbourhood rose to such a level that it flowed right through a group of houses, destroying the simple buildings and carrying away the few belongings therein. The families have nowhere else to go. They are the damnificados.

I was reminded of the main argument of a popular education book published by the Salvadoran grassroots organization Equipo Maíz that I had bought a few months ago for Marcelino and Leonardo, who had requested reading material to pass the time in jail. Natural disasters do not exist, the authors begin. What we call natural disasters are the combination of violent natural phenomena and the poor living conditions of the majority of the world's inhabitants.

Indeed, Hurricane Mitch itself is not the sole cause of the massive death and destruction begun in 1998. With adequate housing, land distribution and medical attention, the effects would have been much different. Unfortunately, these basic rights have not factored into the real agenda of the government, in part due to pressure from international financial institutions to cut public service funding and privatize what services remain under government control. Thus even a rainstorm becomes a natural disaster for Hondurans who live in extreme poverty in houses constructed from scavenged materials.

The recent damnificados have come to COPINH for help. Together they make their situation known to municipal, departmental and national authorities and to the local media. In view of the lack of response and interest in their desperate situation, the families decided to take their struggle a giant step further. They have occupied an unused piece of land owned by the government-owned bank BANADESA (National Agricultural Development Bank), here in La Esperanza. Tarps and other materials have been erected for shelter and the inhabitants, mainly women and children, undertake most tasks and daily chores collectively. They are refusing to leave. Authorities are beginning to listen.

The Great Spectacle

When I arrived once again in the Gracias court on September 23, I realized that the waiting game was almost over. Besides the community witnesses, Miranda brothers and judicial employees, the court was overridden with police and Cobra agents; 26 of the 28 accused had made it this time, in full uniform. Quite some time was spent sorting out the basic logistics of the initial hearing. The Gracias court has little or no experience with collective charges, let alone against a couple dozen police officers, and none of the regular rooms was large enough to hold everyone. Nor were they accustomed to outside observers, considering the relatively recent changes to the penal code, under which all hearings were previously closed to the public. With a little bit of insistence, I was allowed into the entrance hall where the great spectacle was about to begin.

Community witnesses from Montaña Verde, along with Marcelino and Leonardo Miranda themselves, repeated their testimonies of the numerous abuses, human rights violations and torture perpetrated by the agents involved in the January 8-9 operative. The three defence witnesses - a state-employed doctor, a Public Prosecutor, and a DGIC police agent - either witnessed or were directly involved in the abuses and torture. They stuck to the new official story which follows the actual sequence of events, with minor omissions of all mention of torture, post-detention beatings, etc, confirming the defence's argument that the only force used was the 'necessary minimal force' used in the moment of the arrests, needed due to the resistance and violence of the Miranda brothers.

For some unexplained reason, DGIC agent Iván Nájera was not included in the list supposedly naming all police agents involved in the operative, although he was one of the officers commanding the group that attacked and arrested Leonardo and has been identified as the agent who repeatedly smashed Leonardo into the wall when he came out of his house and was handcuffed. No one else seemed to question why Nájera was in the witness chair, describing an operative that followed the very definitions of police protocol and regulations, and not sitting with the rest of the accused.

Public Prosecutor Virgilio Carias, one of the numerous State employees manipulating the legal system to persecute Montaña Verde Indigenous Communal Council members, arrived with police backup during the night and met up with the police accompanying Marcelino Miranda - handcuffed, beaten, and carrying several weapons hung around his neck - down towards the patrol vehicle. Carias stood by as police Lieutenant (now Captain) Valiente greeted Marcelino with a series of kicks and punches. Although Carias did not see fit to include these details in his testimony, by confirming that he only went partway to the community he contradicted his own previous reports that he was present in Montaña Verde during the operative. At the end of his testimony he appeared rather upset and asked, half-shouting at Marcelino and Leonardo, why they were involving him in all of this.

After the spectacle, I rejoined the whole group in the hallway of the Gracias court well into the evening of the 24th with the hope that one tiny step would be taken towards justice, there in the familiar court patio. The initial hearing, usually a brief couple hours to determine whether the case will actually be heard or not, had taken two entire days and was essentially an entire trial unto itself. As we waited for the resolution to be completed and read, I continued a quiet conversation with Marcelino Miranda.

With an almost inaudible exchange of words and minimal eye movement, he identified the two Cobra agents who entered the prison on April 6 and brutally beat both him and Leonardo, threatening to kill them if they were ever released from jail. A little while later one of the two came and sat almost directly beside the column upon which Marcelino was leaning. He spent a couple minutes staring directly into the eyes of Marcelino, who responded to the piercing gaze with a casual but unblinking stare. We are not fighting only for the rights of our community and other indigenous peoples, Marcelino had explained earlier, we are fighting for justice so that this kind of thing doesn't happen to anyone.

Judge Atiliano Vásquez finally emerged with the court secretary, who began to read the lengthy resolution. No luck with that tiny piece of justice; the resolution was in favour of the accused police agents. One of the justifications was that the accused were covered by an order (the arrest warrants) that they were obligated to fulfil. Of course, this reasoning implies the total acceptance of the defence's story. The last time I checked, repeatedly submerging someone's head underwater, stabbing them, and putting out lit cigarettes on their ears wasn't part of the obligation, but you never know with these people.

Another justification was that Public Prosecutor Olga Moncada, from the Special Office on Ethnic Minorities and Cultural Patrimony, did not define, categorize or individualize the charges. This is not wholly unfounded and although the defence lawyer's comment that any law student could have better presented the case was rather offensive and probably should have been called to order by the judge, I tend to agree with him. Prosecutor Moncada privately confessed that she was rather worried about her own safety, worried by the fact that no other public prosecutors wanted to help her with this case. She explained that she had always defended the prosecutors in Gracias from the rumours of corruption and strong links with the police, but that she had now come to the conclusion that these rumours are substantiated by fact. A couple other public observers noted her lack of effort in the courtroom and perceived the possibility that she may have received a little phone call or something of the sort.

That Special Kind of Telephone Call

On September 26th Bertha Oliva, the well-known founder and General Coordinator of COFADEH, the Committee of Relatives of the Detained-Disappeared of Honduras, was working in her office when her cell phone rang. There was no response when she answered the first two consecutive calls - only background music. She immediately received a third call, a woman asking for Julio, to which she replied that they had the wrong number.

Upon hanging up her cell phone, her private office phone rang. A young man asked for Doña Bertha. Upon confirmation, he asked again "You are Doña Bertha?" When she replied yes again, he told her "Doña Bertha, today we kill your daughter," laughed sarcastically and hung up.

This threat is considered to be part of a campaign to intimidate and discredit Oliva. Since September 22, numerous people had publicly expressed in the media - especially radio - that Oliva should be killed, that the government should throw her out of the country, asking why no one had killed a relative of hers yet, etc. The reason for this campaign is her September 22 presentation to the Supreme Court of a motion against the Decree 117-2003, known as the anti-gang law, for its violation of the Constitution.

Decree 117-2003 reforms article 332 of the penal code, the article defining 'Illegal association.' A vague charge used in many countries to repress a variety of groups, the reformed law has targeted anyone 'associated with an illicit association.' COFADEH is legally challenging the reform for its violation of a number of rights and principles guaranteed by the Constitution: the inviolability of personal liberty, the presumption of innocence, personal integrity and security, the right to defence, freedom of circulation and association, among others.

This new law is part of Honduras's war on gangs, involving night time military-style attacks on the tattooed youths of major cities. Although gang violence is a serious problem, Honduras has decided to join other Central American nations in highly-publicized campaigns to deal with criminal violence by increasing the security budget and arrests instead of addressing the root problems of widespread poverty, unemployment and discontent.

A Complicated Crisis

In early October I met with a few lawyers in Tegucigalpa to learn about their complex situation. The Colegio de Abogados de Honduras (CAH), essentially the national Bar Association, and the Supreme Court had both emitted resolutions over a year ago to promote the obtaining of notary public among lawyers. No steps had been taken to fulfil these resolutions, due to the resistance of the notary publics in their midst.

On August 3, 2002, a special assembly of the CAH was convened to deal with the subject. A large turnout of lawyers expressed their displeasure with their Board of Directors and with the Supreme Court for not taking the action required by their own legal resolutions. During the course of the assembly, a motion was proposed, discussed and approved to disbar the Supreme Court judges as a result of this inaction. A motion was then passed to disbar the members of the Tribunal of Honour, an internal court to resolve conflicts within the CAH. A motion was then put forward to disbar the members of the CAH's Board of Directors. This motion was declared approved by Board of Directors president José Maria Díaz Castellanos, who subsequently left the assembly along with the rest of the Board of Directors.

A new provisional Board of Directors was legally elected to direct the assembly. Members of this subsequent Board have been charged with sedition, for attempting against one of the government powers. The individuals accused, however, were only members of the assembly at the time of the supposed crime. The motions were passed by then CAH president Díaz Castellanos. The ensuing attempts to try to resolve the situation have been rather messy.

Díaz Castellanos published a book full of propaganda against the accused, which he then sent to all of their clients. Demands are currently being placed against him for the damages caused by this action. Charges against Díaz Castellanos are also pending for corruption upon discovery that as president of the CAH he had been signing cheques for up to 8 times the permitted amount.

A Commission was formed within the CAH to try to resolve the matter. However, in private the committee president, whose day job is one of the top advisors to the Attorney General of Honduras, recommended Fuck them. Throw them in jail, referring to those charged with sedition. The whole conflict has also become intensely politicised, with the National Party supporting Díaz Castellanos and the Liberal Party supporting the accused. The old Board of Directors (the Board legally elected August 3 was never recognized by government authorities) has also divided, with at least half of its members now siding with the accused. Sedition and other charges are not being dropped, although international organizations of jurists have analysed the situation and have proclaimed the legality of the motions passed.

Behind the Campaign Against Corruption

One of the accused lawyers had been poised to be nominated for the position of president of the Tribunal Superior de Cuentas, the national tribunal for financial matters. He had the support of both major political parties as well as international support from similar court presidents. Then he was told by certain elite politicians that in order to be nominated, he would have to agree to make certain files 'disappear.' He refused.

This lawyer and a few others among those accused with sedition are part of the 'Lawyers Against Corruption,' an independent organization dedicated to investigating and prosecuting corruption among high-level government officials and other members of the national elite. They decided to apply for recognition of the organization as a legal entity, a process managed by the Ministry of Government and Justice. They followed the usual procedures, filled out the forms and paid the usual sum of 500 lempiras (approximately 27 USD). Then the 'special' procedures began.

They were required to bring letters of support from a wide variety of government ministries and offices. They submitted every letter and document required. Go to the ends of the earth. There the guardian of secret knowledge will give you directions to the holy grail. Fill this with a unicorn's blood and bring it to us when the moon passes through the fifth dimension. Considering that these deterrents might be too obvious, the Ministry opted to charge the organization another 15 000 lempiras (almost 1000 USD). This was paid. Then another 100 lempiras were needed 'for the certification.' This was also paid. The organization then received a negative response from the Ministry with no further explanation.

At the same time, Honduras was pledging its commitment to the Organization of American States (OAS)'s hemispheric campaign against corruption. The Lawyers Against Corruption denounced their situation and the Honduran government's hypocrisy to the Secretary General of the OAS. No action has been taken, but the Lawyers Against Corruption continue their work, along with the serious risks and threats that accompany their investigations.

And On And On And On

Back in the COPINH office once again, I found out that on October 2 the Gracias authorities carried out the exhumation in Montaña Verde, although only the day before they had assured the Licenciada Nuñez, another lawyer working to defend the Miranda brothers from the series of false criminal accusations against them, that they had yet to schedule a date.

Although indignant and somewhat worried, no one was very surprised. This kind of thing happens all the time.

(Sandra Cuffe is an activist currently working with Rights Action and COPINH in Honduras.)

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